


The Tales of the Common People in the X-Men world

by Nitocris



Series: The Tales of the Common People in the X-Men world [1]
Category: X-Men - All Media Types
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-05
Updated: 2017-07-04
Packaged: 2018-11-23 14:22:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 13
Words: 18,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11404248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nitocris/pseuds/Nitocris
Summary: TCP X-Men fanfiction is the genre, the stories belonging to which, concern ordinary, non superhero mutant characters living in the world of Marvel. The concept of TCP – Tales of Common People – belongs to Kelly "Kielle" Newcomb and Phil Foster. TCP stories deal with ordinary, non superhero mutants living in the Marvel Universe. The concept practically died together with the death of its founding mother, Kielle but I decided to take an attempt to resurrect it. It's much more interesting to write about ordinary mutants not belonging to any of the X-Men teams and leading normal life. Let's resurrect the TCP concept together :)





	1. A Dealer

**Author's Note:**

> I am a big fan of TCP X-Men fanfiction - the genre, the stories belonging to which as already said, concern ordinary, non superhero mutant characters living in the world of Marvel. The concept of TCP – Tales of Common People – belongs to Kelly "Kielle" Newcomb and Phil Foster. TCP stories, very popular at the beginning of the century in the X--Men fandom, deal with ordinary, non superhero mutants living in the Marvel Universe. The concept practically died together with the death of its founding mother, Kielle but I decided to take an attempt to resurrect it. It's much more interesting to write about ordinary mutants not belonging to any of the X-Men teams and leading normal life. Let's resurrect the TCP concept together :)

For a change, this time BamfIsAwesome was the beta (thank you so very much).

Disclaimer: I don't own anything but the characters; the X-Men universe is the property of Marvel.

I like NES games too, though back in the 90's I didn't have a NES but its Polish clone, the Pegasus console (a cult one in here where I live).

"A Dealer"

I, Maddox Rice, am the best drug dealer in the whole of Hadley. Well… actually to the best of my knowledge, I'm the only one. I'm sure you haven't even heard of Hadley and I'm not surprised by this at all. It's a very small village off the coast of England – maybe two dozen farms that squat down among the patchwork squares of boundless fields, a store serving as an inn and post office at the same time and a school building, housing a primary as well as secondary school. All the kids from our village and the neighboring ones attend it.

And almost all of them are my clients. You hear many times that villagers are narrow minded and don't like things out of the norm, yet in this very case this rule doesn't work – luckily. I never saw anyone pester our neighbor Miss Palfrey in any way in spite of the orange fur covering her whole body. Actually though, I suspect if they did, she would instantly treat them to an electric discharge. That's her power. So maybe they are not so very tolerant but just really careful. Never mind. There are also two other mutants in my school. Well, three, if you count me in too. I'm not a visible one, nevertheless everybody knows. I outed myself to them. That's really strange that I ever discovered my powers – it's one of those you may not ever discover in your whole life, until you do it accidentally. And I did so. So I'm a mutant and a drug dealer at the same time, who could have thought?

They come to me during school breaks, asking for the stuff. That's funny, who could think even in a small sleepy village there are junkies too? I chuckle a bit every time when I think about their parents who are convinced their kids are so innocent. But they aren't and almost every day I give them what they want. Boys and girls, though it's mostly boys. Girls are typically too scared to take it or just too disgusted. Girls are really strange. I really don't know what it is so scary about it. My stuff gets them immersed in a delirious ecstasy for about two hours and doesn't addict at all. I know as I take it too.

They pay me with small, symbolic sums. Sometimes they give me things they don't need any more or serve me with other services. Aiden Palfrey, Miss Palfrey's nephew gave me a Metallica T-shirt he had gotten and which was too small for him. Claire Palfrey (in a village that small, almost everybody is related to one another in this or that way) paid me for the whole month of my giving it to her with a real cool big collection of NES games from the 90's she found in the attic of her house. Yes, it may seem strange but even now I still like playing those old games. Brandon McNeil who, unlike myself, is really good at writing essays, helped me with my last one, correcting all the spelling mistakes. Ian Rice brought me a basket of carrots from his parents' garden. Most of my schoolmates are my clients. Sometimes I'm afraid I won't be able to produce enough stuff for everybody but I always do. Even if every week I get more clients. Sometimes they are those who claimed before that they would never do it. Never ever. That all those who come to me are disgusting, miserable junkies. That my drugs are disgusting and someone like me should be expelled from our school. I laugh silently at them then – I knew they would come to me; a bunch of hypocrites. Like the Browne sisters today. Holly from my class and Melody who is a grade younger. I knew they would come to me one day, asking for just one sip of my stuff, I just knew it. I gave them it willingly and for free. Isn't the first time always for free to attract customers? So I gave it to them for free, laughing a bit at the thought of their disgusted faces. Until they started to express the purest delight, their faces reflected disgust they weren't even trying to hide. But they'll get used to it, like all my customers do. Well, I'm not surprised by this disgust, to be honest. I'm a dealer and a mutant. My body secretions are a natural drug I sell to my schoolmates. In short, one sip of my urine gives them up to two hours of ecstasy. Disgusting but well, you just get used to it.


	2. Accepted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TCP. A mutant girl is fortunate enough to avoid being bullied by her schoolmates.

Disclaimer: I make no financial profit by writing this; it's written for pure entertainment only. The characters belong to me, unlike the world of the X-men.

Beta: Moviemom44

"Accepted"

I'm a mutant, yet I've had the good fortune to be among those who aren't constantly teased. This is actually quite surprising, considering the kind of people who attend my school. Silly, shallow-minded girls whose major interest is taking care of their looks. I actually did happen to hear some nasty comments from some of them, but I don't care much.

It's not really about my mutation, which I could mask from others if I cared to; it's more about a difference as such between myself and the other girls. After all, it's not like I'm the only girl in our school who is a bit different. Lindsey Wright, for example, is very obese. Hormonal issues. And there's gossip about Megan Taylor being a lesbian. She doesn't admit it but everybody knows. Well, I don't follow the commonly accepted pattern of what a girl should be, like my school mates do, either. Nevertheless, I can say that in spite of some nasty comments already mentioned by me, I'm generally rather liked, especially by girls because they are more tolerant than boys.

I'm not very popular, maybe, but it's not like I care that much. I'm quite a loner. It's those popular girls who especially seem to like me; quite an interesting paradox. It's not a one hundred percent requited feeling on my part, to be honest. They are nice, yet so silly, uninterested in anything more serious than going to parties and prettifying themselves. They do keep me at a bit of a distance – I don't fit in with them, after all – though they are quite nice and that's what matters. They talk with me, like I was really one of them. Especially, to be honest, when they need something from me.

There is a small circle of popular girls in our school – Cathy, Tiffany, Melanie, Alex, Gina and Ashley. Every boy wants to date them. Everybody wants to go to their parties. I quite like them, even if they are not particularly smart and know nothing about things more interesting than all that trivial stuff. They are nice, even if a bit shallow. I don't tell them this, of course, I just enjoy the fact that representatives of the school elite pay any attention to me at all.

Recently I was returning from a music lesson when suddenly I saw some girls were waving at me. I took a closer look only to recognize Gina with a friend of hers that I didn't know.

"Hey, look, it's Shelby, we told you about her" – said Gina to that other girl, all excited.

It's nice to know that you are liked in spite of your difference. Gina looked really great. Maybe she isn't too smart but there is that one thing she and all her friends are good at-prettifying herself. She was tanned, with colorful nails and painted hair. She changes the color of her hair very often. I remember at the beginning of this school year she was a blonde. Later her fair hair turned brown with lighter streaks. For some time later she had her hair eccentrically dyed violet but her parents hated it so she changed the color to black. Now she was wearing her long wavy hair loose and it was dyed dark ginger which looked really cool. Gina and this other girl who turned out to be her cousin and whose name was Melanie, were very nice to me then. She even invited me to her party. Imagine that! I turned her down though; I knew she only wanted to be nice, asking me to the party. She always gets especially nice when she wants something from me. I knew her and I knew what she wanted from me again. She got bored with her hair color again and wanted me to help her. This is the reason the girls from my school don't tease me. My mutant power is a pretty minor one, nevertheless a very useful one when it comes to my schoolmates. I am capable of changing the color of stuff. And it concerns also people's hair, eyes, complexion and nails via a mere touch. It's nothing really special nor useful in the grand scheme of things, I suppose, but well, the girls I serve with my power-at least accept me, thanks to my gift.


	3. For Their Own Good

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TCP. A little boy has powers he uses to help others. Even if this help, as understood by him, is very specific.

Beta: Moviemom44

Disclaimer: I don't own the world presented in this short story.

"The Collector" is one great show, one of my favorite ones – you can watch it on Youtube.

For Their Own Good

Adults are strange. This is what I can tell you. At first they tell you one thing and later get angry when you do what they told you.

My name is Brian and I am a mutant. I will be nine soon but I already got my mutant powers. Mom had them too before she abandoned dad and me when I was little. She could talk with animals. But I can do something different. I was so scared at the beginning but not any more. It's a real great thing to be able to help people with them. This is how my powers work. But I am still a little bit afraid of them.

My dad had a talk with me when I told him about my powers. "You got great power, Brian," he said. "And with great power comes great responsibility." I will never forget this talk we had then. I felt like an adult when dad was talking about such serious stuff. Daddy told me many people would kill for this power but I shouldn't ever use it. But I did and do. I help people with what I can do. Daddy told me I may not fully understand everything about my power but I shouldn't ever do it. Until I really, really had to. For my age I was really very naive. That's what dad said when I asked him why. But he didn't want to tell me anything more although I kept asking him about this. But I do. I help others. And I never tell anyone I can, just as he told me not to. Even him. It's difficult to me to help people but I know it's for their own good. That's the other thing my grandpa told me once – when I didn't want to swallow this disgusting, bitter pill when I was ill once. "It's unpleasant but it's for your own good," he told me.

Last month I helped Miss Aldridge. She was my teacher in first grade. I overheard her talking to Mrs. Bryce who is my teacher now about her problem and thought I could help. Miss Aldridge was very ill. It was her problem. She had cancer. I know it's a bad thing to help others not asking them if they want to be helped. My grandpa told me this when last year I watered our flowers too much and they withered afterwards. I didn't know grandpa had already watered them before. But this time I thought I could help her. She had spent a lot of time in the hospital. Now she isn't in the hospital any more.

I helped also Justin. His parents are our neighbors. I rarely played with him because he's three years older than me. He was also ill but it wasn't cancer. He had an accident and was in a wheelchair. He told me that he would rather be dead than in this big, nasty looking thing with wheels. He hated it so much. So I used my powers on him. I pulled him out of his wheelchair. His parents don't know who did this. I won't tell them.

But I help people rarely. I did it just a couple of times. The last time was two days ago. I was walking down the street when this weird old man came to me and started telling me he was a sinner and deserved to go to hell. That the whole world did and would. I knew him. He was Mr. King. He was always saying such weird things. Dad says he is a creep but when I asked grandpa about him, he said he's ill in the head and has a religious obsession. Mr. King used to be a Catholic priest back in the past and that's why. He was in a special place for people with ill heads but it didn't help him, I think. He's always telling people about his sins and about how bad he is. That we all are bad people and will go to hell because the world will end soon and that we should atone for our sins if we don't want to go to this place. My dad takes me away every time we see Mr. King coming near us to tell us about the end of the world.

So this time Mr. King came and told me we should atone for our sins as he does but he didn't believe that it could help him because he deserves hell and that's the place he probably would go because the world is evil. So I decided to help him with my powers. I think he was very unhappy. I know I shouldn't do it but when I see an unhappy person, I feel unhappy too. I don't like looking at unhappy people. I used my powers to open the door to the place to which I can send people.

Mr. King looked at it and screamed. But he got sucked into this place. Well, actually, it was a power within him, not his body. It looked like a ghost version of Mr. King, only without his body, got sucked into this door. Very like in the Collector. No one saw this and this is good. I looked at Mr. King. He was lying on the pavement now and looked all dead. Only that he really wasn't. He only like… fainted.

Later I came home and opened the door one more time when I was alone at home. Dad was out, the same as grandpa so they couldn't see what I was doing. Nor could they see them screaming. They are screaming all the time, the people from the world behind the door. It's really very, very hot in there. It looks like the hell Mr. King thought he was going to go to. Flames are everywhere. It's like from the Collector show. It's a series about a man named Morgan Pym who collects souls for the devil. I always think about it when I take a look into this place. I like to take a look at them sometimes to see how they are doing. This is better than my ant farm, even. They are crying and asking me to let them out. It's difficult for me to use my powers on those I want to help because it's so painful to them but I know it's for their own good. I thought they could stay in there until doctors would find any way to cure their bodies they left behind – my teacher's cancer, Justin's legs… And now Mr. King. I think they will somehow find a way to cure ill heads too. But I think Mr. King should stay in my "hell" forever. He really wanted to go to hell. It's strange that someone would like something like that but well… adults are strange. If he wants, may he stay here. And I don't think curing an ill head is so easy. So he will stay in there forever. I know I did a good thing.

Although my dad says I shouldn't do it. He told me I should do it only when I have to. And I do. I really have to. I want to help them. I know it's a hard but good thing to do. Dad should know this, shouldn't he? Yet he doesn't. I asked him once what he would do if I ever tried to do it and he got so angry! So very, very angry! I think he suspects something about what really happened to my teacher and that boy in a wheelchair. Their bodies lay in their beds in their homes. I am afraid he can guess what happened to Mr. King too. I think dad should spend some time in this special place too… for you know, I think this place is one which can help people and I think dad should be helped to understand what I am doing is good. I will wait for dad when he comes home. I think he will spend some time in there. It will hurt a lot, but he must understand. I somehow know the time in there doesn't pass like here. I can shorten and lengthen it. Here it can be hours, but in there it can be a hundred years. Or longer. Much longer. I don't know how I can know this but I do. I only wonder how much time my dad should spend in there until he finally understands he was wrong. I think a million years will be enough. I know it will be painful to dad to burn in my "hell" but… well, shouldn't everything be done for their own good?


	4. Friends.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TCP. Some girl's most favorite pleasures are reading and meeting friends.

Beta: Moviemom44

Disclaimer: I don't own anything but for the very concept for a story.

The mention about her being able to read at such an early age, in fact concerns my own life. And I would LOVE to own a cute Cthulhu toy. The story got inspired by the L'Anima Del Libro TCP.

"FRIENDS"

I have my birthday today. I turned 16. I got a great many presents from my family and friends. Cosmetics, a good luck tree with its leaves made of amethysts, a lava lamp, a plush Cthulhu toy, and a notebook with the Twilight characters on it. But the greatest presents I got were books—lots and lots of books and comic books.

I've been an avid reader from a very early age. According to the family legend, I could read single letters at the age of only two. Half a year later, I could already read whole words. Nobody believes me when I talk about this, but it's true. I was always a bookworm. I can entirely devote myself to the pleasure of reading now because I am having my summer holidays. No school – just me and my books. But please, don't imagine that I'm an introverted girl who doesn't have any friends because she prefers reading to spending time with people. I'm not like that at all. I'm sociable and love meeting new people too.

I have friends of all ages from a variety of social backgrounds. Although some of them are really different from me, I always find common ground with them. One of my most favorite friends is a young, blonde haired singer with a charming French accent. I met his family members too but I don't like them as much as I like him. His little foster daughter is a cruel kid, though she's very smart. Talking with her is like talking with an adult. His mother in turn seems quite cold and uncaring to me, although she's an avid reader like myself. But they aren't the only family I know. I'm also friends with a group of siblings – quite an interesting bunch if you ask me. There's a blind guy, a hermaphrodite, and a girl who would be probably diagnosed as a schizophrenic with ADHD if anyone ever tried to give her the necessary tests. Their seventh brother left home many years ago. Another brother of theirs died but they have a new brother in his place now. Yes, I know it's a bit complicated. I also know another sibling pair, Chris and Cathy. I never can remember their last name. It's so long and complicated, something with a "d" at the beginning and like two "n's" in the middle. They love each other a lot. They are much closer to each other than siblings normally are. Much closer. My other good friend is a Canadian girl with ginger hair. She is very romantic and likes daydreaming, quite unlike my other friend, Bryan. I share a special bond with him because we have the same last name: Drackman. Yes, my name is Nicole Drackman. In spite of my sharing the last name with Bryan, we actually have little to do with each other. Nevertheless, we are friends. But to be honest, sometimes I'm afraid of him. He's so weird. And he hates his Grandma while I deeply love mine. I have also a female friend whom I love visiting in this large house she lives in. I like her and her sister but I'm probably the only person who likes her after she got accused of murdering their family. I know she didn't do it, though. I have many friends, all very different from each other and I love spending time with them and visiting them.

I love my friends and my books. I'm just looking at them, standing in neat rows on the shelves. "Vampire Lestat", the "Sandman" comic series, "Flowers in the Attic", "Anne of Green Gables", "Dragon Tears" by Dean Koontz, "We Have Always Lived in the Castle" by Shirley Jackson.

Many novels. From the adventures of the young Bastables to Shakespeare. Stephen King. Tolkien. Lovecraft. The Bridget Jones novels. The Left Behind ones – although I'm not a believer. L. M. Montgomery's novels and her diaries. Waris Dirie's memoirs. Even the Sleeping Beauty series by Anne Rice – carefully hidden from my parents, of course. And now some new copies are going to be added to my collection.

I'm a mutant. My ability allows me to enter the worlds in books mentally. Closing my eyes and relaxing, I can meet the characters from my favorite novels in person, visiting them in the worlds conjured up by the writers who made them. They are my dearest friends.


	5. Gran's Revenge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TCP. A woman tells her grandkids a story of a trick she played at her great grandpa's birthday party as a child.

A TCP. Moviemom44, as always, for which I'm endlessly grateful to her, did the beta work on this. It was she who proposed the title for the story, as well. All I have out of the whole story is the characters. Speaking of the characters, cousin Elijah to whom and his family the references are made is a character from "They Never Discovered Their Powers". MarvelMaster616 wrote then in his review that "Elijah sounds like the kind of guy who is bound to his family, but has aspirations that go beyond where he grew up" and it was which made me think it would be a cool idea to make small mentions on other characters from my TCP stories in the other TCP's by me. Like those connections in Stephen King's works. Thanks for this idea, MarvelMaster616.

Gran's Revenge

"So how was it, gran? Tell us once more."

"Aren't you bored with the same old story yet, kids?"

"No, Gran, your stories from your childhood are always the best! Aren't they, Nicky?"

"Yeah, Gran's always full of the bestest stories ever. So tell us once more about your great grandfather's birthday, pleeeease, Gran, you promised."

"Oh, well, if you like this story so much, then so be it. I wasn't much older than you, Zoe, then. I was ten. Great grandpa Benjamin's hundredth birthday was a great occasion to call a family gathering. You know it doesn't happen often for anyone to celebrate their hundredth birthday, so it was no surprise that the whole family arrived. Even the distant cousins. Well, every occasion is good to show off in the local newspaper. The people from the editorial staff arrived later to take a photo of the oldest inhabitant of our town, surrounded by the family, to put in the paper with the article...To be honest, the photo wasn't as good as it could have been… not after what happened… but let's not get ahead of ourselves.

I knew the birthday party was going to be boring. With all those adults treating me like a baby it couldn't be otherwise. Mom's sister, Aunt Karen, would pinch me on my cheeks and want to know if I had already kissed any boy. Cousin Anne Miller from Shipshewana who was your uncle Elijah's mom would compare me to her daughter, as always, and the first thing I'd hear from her would be that I wasn't as tall as Liz when she was my age. Cousin's Julie's twins would keep calling me 'stinker' and 'fatso'... she never could teach them any manners… I knew it would be like that. It always was. I wouldn't be surprised that much if it was she who told them to call me those names. She didn't like me. She told them to keep away from me. I knew my relatives well enough to know what to expect. I didn't want to go to the birthday party. Not at all, but my parents told me I had to, the same as they made me go with them to all those other family gatherings before. Like Aunt Karen's birthday, two months before. Or Liz's wedding. She and her husband were there at great grandpa's party, the same as Elijah… it was before he left the family… I'm not surprised at all that he wanted more from life than living in that Amish town. There was also Uncle Preston with that new Polish wife of his; his brother, Uncle Eric, who always got drunk at parties...I was always so afraid of him then; and my adult first cousin, Charlotte, who arrived from Ohio. You remember Nicky, she's the one who gave you this blue hoodie. The whole family was there, which meant around 30 people, including kids. Yes, I knew what it would look like, well enough to not want to go there from the bottom of my heart…"

"Gran!"

"What's wrong, Zoe? Ah, you want me to get down to business… All right, so I shall. Great grandpa's birthday was the day when I did it again. I knew it would be nasty, I knew it even at the moment when I actually was doing it but it didn't prevent me from doing this. Your parents wouldn't be very glad hearing me tell all of this to you but now when they're out of town, I can tell you the truth – I planned it a week before the party and enjoyed this. I didn't tell anyone but I knew well before it happened that apart from his turning 100, there was also another reason for which great grandpa's birthday party was going to be out of the ordinary."

"Go on, grannie. Nicky and me like this story. It's so funny."

"It was. But the adults then didn't find it funny and I'm not surprised. I could be a nasty kid sometimes. Auntie Agnieszka, my uncle Preston's wife told me once that in her country there was nothing like preteens and that at the age of 11 – and I lacked only 4 months to it – you were already an official teenager. I loved this idea. I know now and I knew even back then that I was too old to do what I did at the party but I couldn't help it. It was my sweet revenge for being forced to squeeze myself in this uncomfortable dress from Aunt Julie because if I didn't wear it then, she would be upset, according to my mom. For being called a smelly fatso by Evan and Ethan and I couldn't complain because I always had to give in to them because they were younger and didn't understand it was impolite to say so – that was what aunt Julie said to me when I told her about what her sons told me. For being forced to watch drunk Uncle Eric and listen to Cousin Anne who was always telling me that I didn't have such good marks at school as her children when they were my age. And for Aunt Karen pinching me on my cheeks like I was six, like the twins."

"And what was next?"

"I contrived it one evening when I was lying in bed. This idea just came to my mind all of a sudden. Suddenly I knew what I should do to show all those stupid adults what I thought about their boring parties at which everyone treated me like a small kid, even younger than Ethan and Evan. I got prepared for this day well. So for the whole week I collected the whole reserve of the acid I had in stock…"

"Gran, how did you get and store the acid?"

"Nicky, don't interrupt! You know how Gran did it."

"Sorry, Zoe."

"Children, stop quarreling. So to make a long story short, I did it. When that day came, we went to great grandpa's house. Everybody was already present. I exchanged greetings with everybody. Pouring some acid on them, while hugging them. Of course only on those whom I didn't like. I spared those who were nice to me. Like Elijah and Liz – it's not their fault their mother never managed to worm herself into my favor. Or Uncle Preston and Agnieszka. But I didn't spare the double dose to Aunt Karen and Aunt Julie's brats. Nobody saw me do this."

"Gran, I can't imagine doing this without being noticed."

"Well, Zoe, I did. I have my ways to do it, you know. I did it and waited. It was like any other family gathering I took part in. Being pinched on my cheeks, told such a big girl should already start to be interested in boys, asked what my school marks were and why they weren't as good as cousin Anne's children's when they went to school. Like always. And I stopped having any qualms of conscience because of what I planned to do to them. They deserved it."

"And what was later?"

"And later all I had to do was wait. We gave the presents to great grandpa and started eating, waiting for the arrival of the people from the editorial staff. I remember this well after all those years – I was just putting a bite of birthday cake into my mouth a fork when I heard a woman's scream. I jumped, almost dropping the cake. I turned away to see what it was. Or maybe I should say from whose mouth the scream was coming out because as for what it was, I knew it exquisitely well. It was Aunt Karen who was screaming as her smart blue costume was melting. The acid did its work well. The fabric melted away, leaving huge holes behind. The skin itself remained untouched but dear old auntie was bawling at the top of her voice, as if it was her own flesh which was melting so fast that she didn't have time to cover herself from the glances of all the family members who were looking at her at that very moment. And then another scream rent the air. And the next ones followed. Aunt Julie and her bratty kids'. Great Aunt Phyllis's. She was always so virulent. Uncle Eric's. Cousin Cathy's. She was my age and always telling me that there was no place in society for people like me and now she had done it. Their smart clothes worn on this occasion were now melting away, exposing their bodies. They looked so funny when they were swearing and screaming and trying to cover themselves – all of this with such hatred in their eyes. They'd tear me to pieces if they could. They stopped hollering out and the silence, so thick that you could cut it with a knife enveloped the room. The silence was broken by Aunt Julie who turned round to my parents and pointing at me accusingly, hissed:"It's your Grace who did it." And then everybody looked at me and I already knew I wasn't going to avoid the punishment."

"And later? What happened later?"

"I got grounded. I couldn't go out anywhere for a month afterward. I couldn't see Emma and Monica – they were my best friends then – after school. I couldn't watch TV nor eat sweets for the month afterward. But I didn't regret what I did that much. It was a sweet revenge. My parents never took me to any adult family gatherings until I was an adult myself. And then no one pinched me on my cheeks nor asked what school marks I had."

"But before you were punished, how did your parents react?"

"Well, even without Aunt Julie, they'd have found out easily it was me. I knew it from the very beginning that they'd find out. That everybody would find this out. My parents wouldn't need Aunt Julie to discover the truth of who did it. After all, it's easy to guess who is responsible for something like that when you have a child who has the power to disintegrate any kind of inorganic matter using the acid excreted by the small openings on the tips of her fingers."


	6. Job Interview

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TCP. A woman applies for a job she doesn't seem to be qualified for.

The next TCP. And the next fanfic whose beta was Moviemom44. And the next story in which all that belongs to me is the characters because the concept of mutants is the intellectual property of Marvel. This short fanfic should be read as a twin fanfic to "Unskilled Labor" by EmilyM.

JOB INTERVIEW

A nice looking, plump woman in her middle age knocked at the door. Upon hearing, "Come in," she opened the door to face another woman sitting at the desk, smiling at her with a big, white toothy grin.

"Miss Sheila O'Nan, I reckon?"

"Yes, I'm here about the job interview. I told you by phone I heard you need workers."

"I understand. My name is Monica Hollinger. But… well…"

"Yes?"

"First of all, may I ask for your medical certificate?"

"I don't have it, but let me explain. I don't think I need to deliver one. I am perfectly healthy. But if it's necessary, I'll get examined, of course."

"Yes, it's an absolutely necessary requirement. We can't just take our workers' word without its being verified by a doctor, even if you aren't a carrier of any illnesses which can be potentially threatening to our clients. But this is something you know yourself from your previous work."

"To be honest, I never worked in this profession."

"No?"

"I'll be sincere with you. It's not only like that I never worked in this profession but even apart from this, I don't have any experience in this very field almost at all. Well… I tried doing this a couple of times in my youth but I discovered it wasn't my cup of tea, colloquially speaking. But it is an easy job, it isn't a difficult thing to do, anybody can do it. I decided to apply for this job because I wanted to fix my finances."

"No experience at all? Well, Miss O'Nan, it is undoubtedly true that working here doesn't require any special qualifications because in fact any kind of physical work is something anybody can do but… well, it's typically younger people who work here. You are already 51. Also… you don't have the kind of physical build which is demanded from our workers and that can make your work difficult."

"Ah, I put on weight quite recently. Actually I wasn't ever thin but now my weight is 120 kilos. I'm trying to reduce my weight but it's difficult."

"Miss O'Nan, let me be completely honest with you. Can you think of any reason for which I should give you this job?"

"I possess an ability which can come in rather handy in this line of work."

With those words, Miss Sheila O'Nan shut her eyes to concentrate better and focused her whole attention on Miss Hollinger whose face reflected pure bliss now. Her eye lids fluttered and mouth opened, creating a perfect "o" but no sound came out.

"I forgot to mention I am a mutant," Miss O'Nan said matter of factly. "I can manipulate pheromones, making people experience bodily sensations much stronger than an ordinary orgasm. The effects of my powers can last as long as 15 minutes."

Monica Hollinger recovered and looked at the other woman now. Her look of shock was soon replaced by a wide smile which blossomed on her face. The woman reached out her hand to shake the hand of Miss O'Nan who smiled back.

"You are hired. Welcome to the "Sweet Delight" escort agency."

The End


	7. Mutant Message Board

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TCP. Every community has its message boards. What if Marvel mutants had one too?

Did you ever wonder whether the X-Men mutants have their message boards where, safely hidden from flatscans, they can discuss the aspects of their lives pertaining to their mutation? Here is a record of a typical discussion coming from such a board. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I don't own the Marvel universe, unfortunately. The characters created by me for this fic are the only aspect of the X-Men world which I can say I possess.

My beta: Moviemom44. I promise I won't ever try to force you to do beta reading for anything of scatological or sexual nature XD XD XD The image instilled into my head by your question about how Mike discovered his unusual power, made me giggle at the very thought of this for the next couple of days – my fertile imagination conjured up for me a very vivid image of a sufferer of a severe case of mental retardation sitting in a huge size toilet bowl and playing with his own poop to discover he's able to turn his feces into roses. This vision was dancing shamelessly in my head for at least two days until I finally managed to get rid of it XD

Mutant Message Board

(and its proud members: Cool_pheromone_dude, LikeCarrieWhite, Mutie1, Telepathic?Schizo?Annie, TheWarperGal, ScaredAndAlone, Mike18, OCDJoe, Remover and Bacterium)

Cool_pheromone_dude: Hi folks, I had no idea I would ever have an occasion to talk so freely about my mutation with anybody until I found my way into this cool place. So let me share my problem with you: do you have any tips on how to make ALL people not fall madly in love with me at first sight ALL THE TIME? I thought I could use some help from my fellow pheromone manipulators present here.

LikeCarrieWhite: Man, I'm not saying that isn't a tough situation, but I wish my problem was only that. Mine is much more serious. You see, my mutation is that my menstrual blood excretes some sort of compound, that if you get too close to it, it fires up your libido, regardless of your orientation. Imagine: me at 13 in the shower after the P.E. lesson and all those gals in the adjacent shower cabins. And then all of a sudden my first period started, just then and there, with all my classmates around… Well, let's maybe drop the curtain of silence on what happened there, you can easily guess that everything went completely crazy and I barely managed to avoid being expelled from school. Even right up until the very end of high school I was known as a major dyke. Everybody was pointing their fingers at me. I can't even go outside when I'm just having my time of the month. I have to be locked in my room because my whole family, even mom and little sis who is only 5 get affected by this. I can tell you all it's a real pain in the ass to be forced to barricade myself in my bedroom behind a specially made iron door for a couple of days every month, like now because… you know what may happen. OMG, I can hear banging on my door. Ooooh SHIT! I can hear something like ax strokes! See ya for now. I'll speak to you later… if I don't kill myself jumping of the window…

Mutie1: Maybe some teleporter could move their ass and try to localize this poor girl before her family and the rest of the town get her?

Telepathic?Schizo?Annie: I'd do it if I could but I'm only a telepath or at least that's what I hope I am… For the last couple of weeks, I keep hearing strange voices and I have no idea if that's telepathy or schizophrenia and I'm afraid to tell my parents about this.

TheWarperGal: Don't even think about telling them. Parents are useless when it comes to stuff like that, believe me on this. I'm an uberpowerful reality warper who created everything that surrounds me but the people I created to be my parents think I'm crazy. When I told them, they took me to a shrink and this pathetic fool told them I'm a schizo with delusions of grandeur. Imagine that! I need any advice on how to convince Mom and Dad that everything's OK with my head and that they aren't even real people? Maybe I should get rid of them? Come on, it's not like they are even real human beings!

ScaredAndAlone: Girl, you are a godsend to me! I need another reality warper to help me! I'm a shy and unattractive teen who can never get a date so I decided to make a perfect girl for myself. But something has gone terribly wrong and now I'm left with an old wrinkled hag who in addition has tentacles between her legs! I tried to turn her into a cute hottie or at least make her disappear, but my powers don't work on her! My parents will be home in an hour. What should I do?

Mike18: My gran would help you. She can make anything she wants disappear; that's her power. But she's been locked in an asylum for years, ever since she got obsessed with the thought that she must do something important for the world and made some famous people she didn't like disappear. Oscar Zeta Acosta, Jimmy Hoffa, Joe Pichler. You know, Gran hated all those 'Beethoven' movies and started to pout when they showed one on TV. If you want, tell me what celebrities you wouldn't like to see any more and I'll deliver it to her the next time we visit her. I'd like to be like her but I'm afraid I'm only an ordinary human. A power would already have manifested in me if I were a mutant like my grandma. But I'm trying to find my power. Who knows? Maybe I'm a late bloomer…

ScaredAndAlone: Maybe your gran can make this creepy troll TheWarperGal disappear. I just sent her a private message, hoping she'd help me, but she explained she was only joking because her real power is only laying eggs! She said she lied about being able to warp reality because her lame powers made her feel inferior to those who are more powerful and what's more, this creep asked me whether I'd like to visit her. She proposed that she'd prepare a romantic dinner from her eggs for us! She's SICK!

Cool_pheromone_dude: Well, maybe making them disappear would be a bit too far reaching, they deserve a life even if they are so frigging DUMB and only flatscans. But did you ever wonder why some of them are such IDIOTS? I think someone of us must be controlling their minds and that's why.

Telepathic?Schizo?Annie: I don't believe this conspiracy theory. They are so stupid just by nature. Hmm, if what I have is telepathy not schizophrenia, then I'll do my best to learn to control my power and influence their minds. Artificial intelligence is better than natural stupidity.

OCDJoe: Aaaah, so my suspicions that all those telepathic freaks meddle with human heads are confirmed! And my shrink keeps telling me I just suffer from schizophrenia and OCD together! Now I know the truth, I'm going to contact the authorities about your board now, you gene jokes. FoH forever!

Remover: Nobody worry! It was only my cousin who is spending his school break with us. I forgot to close the site when I went out for a moment to the bathroom and he must have seen this then. I neutralized the bastard by removing his memories concerning this incident – but I also removed his memories on how to walk and talk, so when he comes back home his parents will have to learn how to deal with a fifteen year old BABY XD. I always use my power of deleting others' thoughts on those who piss me off, like my teachers.

Mutie1: We are grateful to you, but I think that was too extreme; you didn't need to be that cruel. And as for the idea of erasing the memory of your teachers – I'm dumbfounded. But I can't judge you too harshly – it would be ridiculous – disapproval from the guy who regularly uses his powers of shapeshifting to impersonate his math teacher. So far, this poor guy has already been brought up on charges of indecent exposure -twice-and been arrested four times for stealing women's underwear from a store. He's now famous in our whole town for admitting to everybody who will listen that he engages in bestiality with his dog. LOL! I don't even know if my teacher has a dog.

LikeCarrieWhite: Hello, guys, I'm back. I managed to jump out of my bedroom's window at the last moment. Luckily it wasn't my family; that would be just too creepy. Christ, I feel like a bitch in a heat. You would think I should have been used to strange stuff that happens to me every month because of my power, but no! What just happened to me was just way too weird even for my standards. You won't ever believe who was at the door-it was a zombie, a real zombie, surely from this cemetery near our house. No idea how he could be alive. No, I'm not on any drugs. You won't believe me, but I just had to share this with someone.

Bacterium: I can easily explain this to you. I live in your town and I was a lurker here for the last couple of weeks, but now I decided to take part in your discussion. My mutation is that my true form is a kind of living bacteria which needs hosts to survive. I stole a body from the graveyard which was still fresh enough to look human and not scare anybody and when I came too close to your house I felt something I never felt before. I just needed… you know. Sorry for scaring you.

Cool_pheromone_dude: I'd LOVE to have this power! You all know what I would do if I had it? I'm a big fan of that star who died a couple of months ago. If I were you, I would have possessed his body during his funeral, reviving him before the eyes of the gathered crowds. It would be sweet! It would be like at the funeral of Nicolae Carpathia from Left Behind. Yes, it would be fun. Who knows, maybe some new religion would hatch from this again?

ScaredAndAlone: If you mean that star I think you do, then let me tell you it would be a bad idea. Everybody would remember that video in which he pretended to be a zombie and think the zombie apocalypse was imminent. (As for me – I would willingly exchange a zombie for this old hag with tentacles who is still at my home.)

LikeCarrieWhite: Or you could just possess the Pope, controlling his mind to make him admit in public he's gay and an atheist. But hey, speaking of religions, did I tell you what kind of problem my best mutant buddy has? He has the ability to create duplicates of himself and uses them to have sex. But he is a Catholic so he has some pricks of conscience because of his religion. He doesn't know how to classify what he does – if it's incest or masturbation?

Bacterium: I think the days of my searching for new hosts are slowly getting near their end. Recently some woman I don't know, Selene Gallio contacted me, claiming she needed people just like me but she didn't want to reveal any details concerning the kind of the work I'd have to do for her. I'd accept her offer instantly if not for the fact that she doesn't seem to be quite in her right mind. You wouldn't believe me if I told you how old Selene told me she is, like 17, 000 years or something.

Remover: Oh, of course I have heard about this woman. Did she really tell you something that ridiculous? Poor Miss Gallio, she must have gone completely crazy, driven to despair by her boyfriend's death. Haven't you heard about this Wither guy who dated her? Recently he was found dead, all dried up, quite like someone sucked all his life energy out of him. It must have been some evil mutant who did it.

Mike18: Oooh, guys, you know what just happened? You know what? I just discovered my power! I can turn my feces into all kinds of flowers! I accidentally turned my poop into a rose. I finally found my power! Hooray!

Telepathic?Schizo?Annie: Well, congratulations on this. Now you really are one of us. What are you going to do with your power?

FecalMatterBoy (previously Mike18): Well, I'm going to produce some more roses and bring them to my grandma the next time I visit her. It will soften her up and make it easier for me to convince her to make you all disappear. I can't allow you all to live now that you know that my power is so… crappy.


	8. Mutant Message Board II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TCP. Every community has its message boards. What if Marvel mutants had one too? The sequel to the first Mutant Message Board.

By courtesy of Moviemom44 – the best of betas :) - I can hereby proudly introduce the second part of the story to you.

"Mutant Message Board II" (the knowledge of the first part necessary)

TeLeKiNeSiS_rUlEs: Isn't the net the best invention ever? If it didn't exist, I wouldn't have had a chance to ever know other mutants than me and my sister. My power is telekinesis and Laurie is pyrokinetic and we have devastated our whole house because of a hard time we have controlling our gifts. It bears an amazing resemblance to a battle field now but our overprotective parents only clench their teeth and don't want to let us go to the Xavier's Institute for Gifted Youngsters!

Mutant and Proud: But why, for heaven's sake? Sorry but it's very irresponsible of them.

TeLeKiNeSiS_rUlEs: They claim attending his school could be too dangerous because of all those anti-mutant bigots who may hover around it. They console us by telling us that we soon will master our mutant gifts on our own, even without Xavier's school. Laurie and I have written a letter to our president about this. I do hope it's going to help. I'm so very happy that a mutant finally has been chosen for this office. I never expected it would happen.

Venomous: Yeah, he's not only a good leader but also such a family man. My grandma goes into raptures over him because of it every time he's on TV. But the truth is that if not for the influence of his powerful relatives, who had a hand in the politics, he never would have been elected. At least, that's the rumor I heard.

Ashley "Energy Blast": It seems all old ladies love our president. Mine is always telling me I should be like him. He loves his own grandma very much and always talks about her with a great respect, telling everyone how she always helped him and that's it's thanks to her that he is the person he is now. But anyway, I can't understand why the original poster's old folks don't want him and his sister to attend Xavier's school so much. I heard a lot of positive things about it.

SecondGenerationMutie: Yup, my online friend says it's a really amazing place. I can't help giggling when she tells me about all those adventures she and her classmates had in there. Like when she used her power to increase the size of her body to massive proportions after her P.E. lesson and went in the shower like that. She must have weighed like 200 kilos at least then. This pervy guy from her class who was always using his ability to see through walls to peep at the girls taking showers must have ended up severely traumatized by what he saw, lol. My friend told me he apologized to all the girls. He swears now that he won't ever dare to use his power like that anymore.

Ashley "Energy Blast": OMG, I read this story on another mutant board once! Your friend must have a great sense of humor from what she writes in there, I admit. But personally the joke I liked best was when she persuaded her best friend, you know, this one who can control other people's bodily fluids, to use this power of hers on that girl from their school they didn't like. I laughed so hard while reading it! They had to take her to hospital immediately because the doctors thought it must be some new plague manifesting itself when all her bodily fluids emptied out of all her body orifices all at the same time! HAHAHA!

Venomous: You say she is able to control all of a person's bodily fluids? Really? Mine are venomous, that's my mutation. I wish I knew that girl, it would be my only chance to ever get a girlfriend.

SecondGenerationMutie: So you are like my mom in this respect, except that her fluids are also addictive. And I wondered for my whole childhood how come she always had so many male friends who kept visiting us all the time.

Ashley "Energy Blast": My parents are mutants too. Dad can excrete various smells depending on his mood and my mom is pyrokinetic. I wonder which power my younger siblings are more likely to inherit if any at all.

Mutant and Proud: Maybe a combination of both – super smelly combustible farts. That idea is even funnier than one I had about another married couple I know. He has a power of hydrokinesis and she can transform her body into a huge feline. She can also keep mental contact with cats. I know it shouldn't be a topic of jokes but every time I see their son, I imagine him in the future as a sadistic teen with the power to successfully drown kittens by sheer willpower.

Venomous: You are right, you shouldn't ever joke about such cruel things, moron! Let's change the topic, PLEASE. Has anybody maybe heard about any psychological therapy for mutants with powers that make their life difficult? Mine makes me feel very depressed.

Ashley "Energy Blast": I went to one last year when I had a hard time controlling my energy blasts and felt depressed because of it too but I was actually the only person in there who had a strong and usual power. Basically, the group therapy was targeted at those who had powers close to completely useless and felt cheated because of it. It was a strange experience. There was that man whose sole power was that he could make his hair explode and fall off. Or a boy whose ears were big – I mean – REAL big and he used them to fly, like Dumbo! But the most pathetic power of all belonged to some young woman who swore to us she could see her grandparents in their bathroom every time they went in there to relieve themselves, hahaha! That was at least what SHE claimed. I am not stupid enough to believe ANYONE'S clairvoyance would be limited only to such circumstances. She must have been lying to us to get attention. Nobody can ever have a power which would be so dumb.

Embarassed Poster: Hi, I'm new here. Well, our president admits himself he used to attend a group like that in his youth too. You know his powers aren't too impressive either. You know, I feel that soon I will need such a therapy myself. I am already at the end of my tether! Everybody can read my EVERY thought, regardless of how hard I try to block them from others. I myself can't read any thoughts of others though. It's so embarrassing, I feel like dying of shame. I wish I could at least read other people's minds… I could do so many things with that power…

TeLeKiNeSiS_rUlEs: Why the heck would you ever want to try to manipulate human minds? It's really wrong. Are you some evildoer or what? If so, I am very glad you can't do what you would like to!

Embarassed Poster: Calm down, man. I just would make people believe mutants aren't that bad, that's all.

Ashley "Energy Blast": That would actually be really great if you managed to contribute to this. Ordinary humans can sometimes have really strange ideas about us. For example recently my cousin asked me if I believed in little green men. I said I didn't and she said: And this is from the girl who can blast stuff! Well, if being a mutant makes you believe in every supernatural crap…

SecondGenerationMutie: For me personally, as important as it would be to root all those silly anti-mutant superstitions out of normal people's heads, it's just as important to find out if there is any truth to this new theory that says your life conditions and mental state at the time of manifestation have an effect on what power you actually acquire. Genetics has so many secrets that are still waiting being revealed.

Venomous: Such a connection definitively does exist, I'm sure. I know one guy who is a lazy couch potato. He's a telekinetic. He doesn't even need to move from his coach to go to the kitchen because his beer cans fly to him from the fridge on their own. I saw this with my own eyes.

Embarassed Poster:I think there must something to this theory, too. In my school there are a couple of mutants. A boy who was always very shy and had no friends recently came out as a mutant with the ability to create duplicates of himself. Or… did you watch the news yesterday? They were talking about those deformed mutants, the Morlocks, living in the sewers of New York. There was that guy who could alter the flesh of all living creatures, disfiguring them… he was called Masque. So there's this ugly girl who is a grade older than me. She is seriously unattractive and she always envied her pretty classmates. They stopped mocking her when it became clear she has the same power as this Masque guy from the news, hahaha.

Mutant and Proud: LOL! So this hydrokinetic woman from my neighborhood must have been into water sports! And no, I'm not talking about windsurfing now. I hope you know what I mean… Oh, you know what just came to my mind now when I'm pondering this issue? Imagine the circumstances in which our president could discover his power when he was young…

SecondGenerationMutie: Don't be vulgar. Why, for heaven's sake, do even mutants always have to make fun of this guy? He does everything to ensure mutants full human rights which we wouldn't have if not for his hard work in this field. I was never surprised more than when a mutant was elected. But I don't think it would have happened if his main political opponent hadn't suddenly withdrawn. People say he mysteriously disappeared with no trace, but there is always some crazy gossip. I think there was something seriously wrong with his opponent's health and he had to retire. Disappeared… Tell me another one… maybe someone is going to claim that politician was abducted by a UFO. But well, now I'm waiting impatiently for Steve, this moron from my class who is always mocking me and calling me names because I'm a mutant. He always saying I have caustic saliva and poisonous teeth. I don't but I would LOVE him to turn out to be a mutant with a mutation like that! It would sure teach him a thing or two about making fun of people. But the chance for something like that are small… MY power doesn't fit me for sure so certainly it doesn't ALWAYS work in that way. I can turn invisible but I'm an asthma sufferer and a heavy breather due to it.

Venomous: It's really strange to think some of us might even have not discovered their powers. Like an asexual person who is able to manipulate human libido. Or someone whose gift allows them to make their drawings come to life but this person has no talent at all in this field and never draws anything.

Mutant and Proud: This whole conversation reminds me of my experiences from the days of my earlier youth when I was trying to discover my powers. I wasn't invulnerable to flames nor could I digest poison. I couldn't control the mind of this dumb doctor who laughed at me at the hospital then. I couldn't even send her somewhere really far… like Africa or another place where people have a bigger sense of humor. I thought maybe I could become invisible but was convinced I couldn't when I sneaked into my hot neighbor's bathroom when she was taking a shower. I also learned that my ability wasn't self-healing when he brother beat the crap out of me for doing it.

TeLeKiNeSiS_rUlEs: Hey, my sister and I just got a letter from the President's chancellery. His secretary promised me our case aroused his attention and that he'd personally would take care of it! Yes, PERSONALLY! Can you imagine this?

Mutant and Proud: I wish you and your sister the best about it. I'm glad it finished well. Now I have some more respect for the president. But it doesn't change my opinion that his power is so silly and not fitting someone so powerful at all. Imagine: you are the man who is ruling the whole country but your sole power is turning your feces into flowers.


	9. The Camel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TCP. Sometimes mutants are found not only in the USA, but also in less developed communities in other parts of the world.

Disclaimer: Only the characters of this story are those I can call truly mine. Beta: Moviemom44.

The Camel

The sands of the desert of the Horn of Africa stretched away to the horizon, above which the golden ball of sun was set, like some exotic African jewel burning above the heads of two boys, who came to tend their camels here in the middle of nowhere. And, although no one besides those two could know, they had also come to do… something else.

The air was hot and dry, like always in Somalia. The camels seemed quite contented with what was left to eat in this place that was almost devoid of grass – though no one, their teenage shepherds included, could really know for sure; it's hard to read the facial features of a camel. The boys were black-skinned, curly-haired and, as much as one could guess by looking at them, very excited. One of the boys, named Rashid after his grandfather who died barely a week before the boy was born, was actually old enough to be called a man in the world of the desert nomads. Here, everyone grew up faster than their peers in the West. He didn't know his exact age, but guessed he could be seventeen or eighteen since for the last couple of years he'd been considered old enough to get married and carry out all the duties of an adult.

Rashid's younger brother, Ali, was five years younger or, at least, he thought so. In the desert, there was no use for calendars or clocks. But yes, it must have been five years because their sister Basma was two years older than Ali and three years younger than Rashid. Basma was actually only Rashid's real sister; Ali was just their half sibling. His mother was one of their father's four wives, the youngest being not much older than Basma herself, a custom that was nothing out of ordinary in the harsh desert world.

Basma was married herself now, a couple of months ago. A man old enough to be her grandfather by desert nomad standards traded their father five camels for her, camels that now belonged to the same horde the boys were tending. "Basma" means "smile" in Arabic but the girl was always gloomy and constantly shouting at her siblings. In all honesty, both the brothers sighed with relief when the girl disappeared from their life.

They were really close to each other, much closer than siblings so different in age typically are, even though there were many other siblings to bond with – fifteen to be exact – all of whom (maybe but for one exception) had a nicer disposition than their sister. The whole family consisted of fifteen living children of all ages, from Aleeke, older even than Rashid, to baby Amina, born barely a month ago to their father's youngest wife. There were also two twin boys, Ali's half brothers, born just a week after him and his real brother, Jamal, born between Ali and Rashid, but it was those two for whom the flower of brotherly love blossomed.

Rashid was the only one out of all the siblings whom the boy let in on the secret he had. He was showing him now, with a smile of pride, what he could do. And the pride was fully justified, given that most adults wouldn't be able to do what the younger boy was just showing to his sibling. Actually, almost no one – regardless of their age – could do it, except for a small handful of mutants endowed with the same power. That was what young Ali was – a mutant endowed with the power of shapeshifting.

"Do Basma once more," asked Rashid, giggling at the thought of their sister, whom, in spite of her attitude, he would like to see once more – whatever sort of person she was. She was still their sister and, although he wouldn't admit this to the rest of the family, he missed her.

"Wait one moment," smiled Ali, puckering his smooth dark forehead below the shock of curly black hair a little, as if what he was going to do in a moment was the most difficult thing he had ever done. And in some sense it was so – changing the molecular structure of one's own organism so that the flesh could assume the shape of someone else certainly isn't something everybody can do with ease. Ali's powers, powers he had only recently discovered, granted him the power to shapeshift. The boy was capable of assuming any shape he wished; all he needed to do was concentrate a bit and he could become anyone at all.

"Is it she?" asked the boy, looking at his brother. His body had already started to change its shape, taking on a resemblance to his sister.

"The eyes are too big," said Rashid, looking critically at the boy – no, now already a girl, a black-skinned girl with typical Somali facial features, a nose so narrow that it could belong to a Caucasian and lips not as wide as those of a typical negro. "And she had lighter skin than you do, remember. And her eyebrows were thicker."

They didn't have a mirror, nor did they ever see one, so the young mutant wasn't sure how similar to the original he was, being forced to depend on what his brother said. Finally, the process was finished and before Rashid there stood his sister, looking exactly like she did on the day when they saw her for the last time.

Ali's power demanded practice, of course. He could keep the illusion for as long as he wanted, even when sleeping. All he needed was some time to learn how to concentrate better to assume different shapes faster. It was why the boys chose a secluded place to bring the camels to today. Far from the family, the young mutant could practice safely, under the vigilant eye of his helper, telling him what mistakes he made.

The day was as calm as any other, though a much more interesting one – as it was ever since the boy discovered his power. Almost every day the young mutant practiced his newly found powers, about which only his brother knew. Basma soon disappeared from the eyes of Rashid, replaced by young Nhur, their other sister, only to be replaced yet again by father and all his four wives.

It was great fun the boys enjoyed until they decided to try something new—transforming into the body of an animal. A camel, to be precise. They knew what camels looked like, so why not check if it worked? But changing species, it turned out, was a much more difficult thing to do than merely shifting into a different human. Ali had to concentrate for at least a minute until his body started to change. Five minutes more and on the sandy ground there stood a young camel, looking just like all the ones the boys were tending, only younger and smaller because the boys' body could not increase its size. The camel was a very realistic looking animal. It even had a small scar on its back right leg, similar to one Ali had, since, as a young child, the boy injured his calf. Ever since that time he had a star shaped scar where the wound once was.

"I will go see our siblings," said the camel, suddenly. "I want to see what they are doing. They won't know it's me."

To hear the voice of his brother coming out of the mouth of an animal would normally be a shocking experience, but Rashid had already grown used to his brother's strange powers. Listening to the camel wasn't much different than looking at the boy whose body was melting, turning into shapes it didn't originally have. Rashid nodded, smiling at the camel as he watched it move farther and farther away, until the small dot it had become disappeared over the horizon. The next couple of hours he spent tending of the camels, waiting for his brother who didn't come back.

Well, maybe he turned back into a human again and had to do something his parents told him to do. The evening was coming. The boy took the camels and directed his steps towards the camp of his family.

The whole family was already gathered around the fire, kindled probably by Jamal, as always – boy, his half brother did love to start fires, always insisting on being allowed to kindle the fire, fascinated by the golden sparks as if he was a child, not a teenage boy. The smell of incense, the pieces of which had been thrown into the fire, mixed with the aromas of wood and camel dung that had been used to start the fire. And also with the smell of freshly cooked meat.

They were all eating, biting and chewing pieces of meat held in their hands. Father, mother, father's three other wives, including Fatima, the youngest, holding baby Amina in her arms. On her wrists, numerous bracelets jingled over the complicated henna paintings depicting a complicated flower pattern. There, too, were the twins, and Haji, who had a malicious disposition not so different from Basma, but who at the moment was not making any mean remarks, only devouring a big piece of meat clutched in his hand. In Grandma Sahru's lap sat little Khadiyah, pulling the old woman's grey curls. Ayan and her half sister Nhur, closest to her in age, both wearing identical traditional African dresses in a flower pattern, were eating pieces of meat put on long sticks the children held in the fire. It was Ayan who spoke up first, but not before she picked up another stick covered in the unidentified meat and gave it to her brother.

"Oh, you are back," she said, putting the meat in his hand with an automatic movement. "Where's Ali? There's still some meat waiting for him. Imagine, some strange young camel not belonging to us wandered here. Father killed him when he went to hunt. We are just eating the meat. I don't know whose camel it was. It wasn't one of ours. It had such a funny scar on its back leg. It was shaped like a star."


	10. The Choice of the Name.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Parents are choosing the name for their new baby.

Disclaimer: I don't own the concept of mutant superpowers, all I do own about the story is the characters. It's a TCP with OC's. TCP is the genre, the stories belonging to which, concern ordinary, non superhero mutant characters living in the world of Marvel. The concept of TCP – Tales of Common People – belongs to Kelly "Kielle" Newcomb and Phil Foster. TCP stories deal with ordinary, non superhero mutants and their human friends, enemies and family members, living in the Marvel Universe. If you liked it, go to my profile and read the rest of my TCP's.

"The Choice of the Name"

„ So there's just that last thing left, now."

" Yes, the name."

" Any other parents would have already chosen one, many months earlier."

" Well, don't forget we already did prepare a list of the names, well before you went to hospital. We only need to make the final choice."

" Yes. We need a beautiful name that will fit our baby."

" Let's take a look at the list once more. What about Elise?"

" No way, Miles. We aren't going to call her Elise. I told you that, then, and I'm not changing my mind on this."

" Why not, Rose? So far, we already have Alan, Bethany, Caleb, Diane… an "e" is the next in the alphabet. The choice seems quite easy. Elise? Don't you want an Elise? So what about an Eve, then? Maybe Elaine? Children in the alphabetical order…"

" No. I don't like an Eve. Brings bad associations. In kindergarten there was that one girl of this name – horrible and freckled all over. She was always pinching me."

" Our little non-Eve and non-Elise will be a nice girl with beautiful skin – fair and delicate, no freckles at all. As white and delicate as the Snow White's one. Yes, our little Alison will be a cute and beautiful child. Like her mom."

" Well, thank you but Alison isn't a good name either. We already have four females named Alison in our family. Including my sister."

" My first cousin is an Alison, too."

" Your cousin is a very good woman. Hey, what do you think about the idea to give our little girl the name after some relative of ours we like? Are there – or were – any women in your family, whose names we could give to our girl to honor them? Any women you respect?

" Oh, yes. Great grandma Sophronia and her sister Henrietta, my great aunt Ermitrude… Wonderful women. My distant cousin Mehitabel was a wonderful woman, too."

" Ha, ha. I always appreciated the fact I married a man with a sense of humor but it's too much of a serious matter. Any normal name you can think of? Any owner of a normal name, who deserves its being given to our girl?"

" Well, cousin Rebecca was the most outstanding person in our family…"

" Yes, for the fact that her three husbands all died in mysterious circumstances. And, quite accidentally, all of them happened to be very wealthy. Stop joking, Miles. Any name that sounds nice, isn't inherited from a black widow or anyone like that and fits out daughter."

" Alana?"

" We already have an Alan. If they were twins, it would have made a sense."

" Well, Bethany and Caleb are twins, nevertheless their names don't match."

" It was your uncle Theodore who proposed a Bethany. After his dead daughter. And he's a wealthy widower without any other children. And your close relative. He likes you. And Caleb is after my beloved grandpa."

" Let's check the list one more. Holly, Vanessa, Zoe… Maybe some name that is fashionable now, what do you think? Like Haley? Or Ava? Mia, maybe?"

" Miles, I know why you insist on Ava. That's for Ava Gardner, don't pretend I don't know you like this actress so much. I'm sure if she was still alive – and young – you'd be able to divorce me to marry her, if given this opportunity."

" Someone is jealous here, Rosie. If not Ava, then why not Mia? It's a nice name. Like Mia Farrow."

" No actresses, please. And no singers. I see you just added "Britney" to the list."

" Maybe Bella, then?"

" And no book characters either. That's good you haven't proposed a "Hermione", yet."

" If Bethany was given the choice, she would certainly have come up with this name, I bet. She's crazy about "Harry Potter". Well, if she has any children on her own when adult, she will be able to give them any names she will want. But book characters sometimes do have nice names. What was the name of that other girl from "Twilight" Bethany read? Laurie? No, Leigh? What about Leigh?"

" Maybe Rachel? It's a Bible name too. She was Leigh's sister. Or any other Bible name? Sarah, maybe?"

" Way too common. Anyway… our last name is Connor so it wouldn't just sound well. Sarah Connor… it sounds like the name of the celebrity… or the character from Cameron's movies. So no."

" So maybe something a bit more uncommon?"

" Raelle? Chantelle? Nairobi?"

" You're joking again. I asked seriously. Nairobi?"

" I read about an English couple who named their daughter like that, because it was the place she was born in".

" Well, our child will have a normal name, that's for sure. Even assuming we were crazy enough to name her after the place she was born in… well, "Fuquay-Varina" doesn't even sounds like a human name at all. A normal name and don't forget about this."

" The question is: what name?"

" Maybe something cute. Like the name of a flower. Iris? Lily? I am a Rose, so maybe it would sound well if mother and daughter had similar names. I used to know a woman named Holly, who named her twins Molly and Polly."

" Iris? It's a beautiful name. Like Iris Murdoch."

" Flower names indeed do fit a girl. The name must fit its owner. Must fit our girl."

"Flowers and gems. Amethyst, Emerald or Turquoise sound cute. Oh, sorry, Rose. I'm serious now. Ruby, maybe, then?"

" Ruby is becoming fashionable again."

" It used to be a bit obsolete indeed. But it's a beautiful name. The same with Pearl. I never knew any Pearl, but for the one from "The Scarlet Letter" but you know, I do think this name would fit our daughter. If you agree, of course."

" Pearl… a pretty one, so feminine. Maybe not exactly a common one, but then again, so many people give their babies very generic and trite names. I don't know myself…"

" So maybe Iris? Well, I just want to say Alan has a crush on an Iris from his school. And Mrs. MacMillan, the one who gives the twins music lessons, has a daughter of this name. I also work with a woman whose name is Iris."

" Oh, well… Iris indeed became a bit too generic. Almost as much as Madison, Emily and Chloe. While Pearl…"

" Pearl is perfect. It fits our baby. Let's stay with this name, then. So since now on, we are the parents of Alan, Bethany, Caleb, Diane and Pearl. Pearl fits exquisitely well"

Miles and Rose Connor looked tenderly at their youngest child, now sleeping peacefully in her baby crib. Rose reached her arm and delicately pinched her newborn daughter on her arm, which changed instantly and the rest of her body followed. Although just a few days old and brought from hospital only the day before, little Pearl belonged to those mutants, whose powers show many years before their owners hit puberty. The body of the baby wasn't pink, soft and delicate as bodies of newborns tend to be, any more. Now it was covered by retractable armored plates of some sort, covering her in a protective body armor. The armor was milk white and as hard as the surface of a pearl. Yes, the name of the newborn fit her. Her parents were right about this. It fit her very well.


	11. The Knitting Club

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TCP. A teenage boy has a hobby untypical of a male. Or maybe... typical?

I own neither the X-Men, nor even the TCP fanfiction concept. The former one belongs to Marvel, the latter to Phil Foster and Kielle. The mentioned Pearl Connor comes from my other TCP, "The Choice of the Name." Ksenia and Irmina are rare Polish names. I have two cousins of those names, but they aren't sisters to each other. Kot is a last name from my country, which means "cat". TCP's are short (an important feature – they, according to the definition of them, concentrate on showing just a short fragment of life of mutant but ordinary citizens of the Marvel world) and deal with normal, non superhero mutant inhabitants of the MU. If you like the concept, write your own TCP's – let's resurrect the TCP X-Men fanfiction genre.

" The Knitting Club"

Chase Whitely always secretly enjoyed the knitting club meetings. Even if he was the only boy in the whole school, who attended them. Or, maybe rather, though he wouldn't ever admit, because of it. Admitting the reason would be dangerous, and he knew that. He knew exquisitely well.

He knew also that today's meeting would be the most pleasant part of this day – as always. The nicest ending of this school week, Chase could think of. And, as always, he was the first one to come. The classroom's door was ajar. The boy slid into the room, waiting for the rest to come. He pulled out his knitting needles, inherited from his grandma – it was she, who taught him how to knit, which later turned out to be a very useful ability – and a green scarf, on which he was going to work in the moment. When the girls from the club came.

And they did. After maybe two minutes of waiting, the classroom swarmed with girls. Raelle Barry, his lovely neighbor and, at the same time, also his schoolmate. The Weatherford sisters – tall, tanned Molly and Emma – shorter, more pale and much more talkative than shy Molly, whose beautiful face with her cute little nose, like a lovely small button, in the middle, every now and then got covered by an intensive blush. Stacey and Rory Parkinson – not sisters this time, nor even mere cousins; hell, they even didn't share the same skin color, with the similarity of their last name being purely accidental. Ayan Rashid. Andrea Joplin, the prettiest girl in the whole school, followed by her best friend, Brittany Collins, with her head covered with a shock of very curly, sand colored hair. Angelina Smythe, Brittany's younger cousin. Jessie Nippers, right after Andrea, when it comes to beauty. Fallon Hodgson – not particularly pretty but with a very slender, well-shaped body. Marie Sayers. Pearl Connor, really charming and quite pretty, though not particularly liked at school – she was a mutant and not embarrassed to admit this, willingly demonstrating her ability to assume an armored form. Not that for Chase, unlike for some other schoolmates, it could matter in any way, that his friend was capable of covering at will her slim body with hard white piles, which made her look like she was not a mere human, but, as even her name itself suggested, a pearl sculpture – if something like that could exist. Chase liked her, in spite of her difference. She was nice and friendly and it was which mattered. He felt they two had a lot in common with each other, and liked her not any less than the rest of girls, he was at one school with. With Sandy Ambers. Casey O'Brien. Ashley Sloane and Ashley Greene. Claire Tomei. The Kot sisters, Ksenia and Irmina, who arrived in the USA quite recently and still didn't speak English well, but it didn't matter to Chase any more than Pearl's mutation – those Polish twins were so pretty! He liked spending time with all those lovely girls. He liked knitting, too.

The girls took their seats, pulling their stuff they needed, out of their bags. Mrs. Tessio, the leader of the club; very tall, very slim and still really attractive, although already nearing her sixties, started to give them instruction. But Chase didn't even listen to her monotonous voice. He enjoyed knitting, but there was also some other thing he liked. Girls. Many beautiful girls, sitting in a circle, fully exposed to the eyes of the boy, to the presence of whom, they didn't even pay attention. But for the boy, in this respect the exact opposite was true. Yes, knitting was fun, even if also a bit unusual for a boy to enjoy. But the other thing, Chase liked about those meetings, was typical of a boy, though. The teen smiled slightly, turning on his mutant ability of X-ray vision. Yes, knitting was fun. But the perspective of the next two hours spent at the presence of the group of pretty girls, not ever suspecting that someone could be practicing on them his ability to see through objects – clothes including – was even better!


	12. The Matter of Practice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TCP. A teenage girl has mutant powers. She doesn't have full control over them though and has to exercise to achieve it.

The idea for this story dawned on me after my reading a TCP, in which a shapeshifting girl gets stuck in the body of a chicken which in turn gets eaten by her parents. The beta was Moviemom44; I, personally, don't own any rights to the X-Men for it's the intellectual and financial property of Marvel. The items I described as belonging to Brianna in this story, in turn, actually all belong to me in real life – though I'm not that untidy.

The Matter of Practice

A group of teenage girls were looking with curiosity at the unmoving body of the girl around whom they gathered. There were four girls of different races – Sarah, who was black; Jasmine, a Caucasian; Liz, who was half Native American; and Sakura, a short, slim daughter of Japanese immigrants, who was always emphasizing her origin with a smile of pride. Even if she was born here in the States, barely spoke Japanese and had no idea about how to wear a kimono. The four of them certainly made a well balanced racial profile.

But the fifth teenager, lying on her bed in the dormitory, seemed to belong to a race which even didn't evolve on Earth. She was blue all over, with her short wavy hair the color of purest white and eyes as golden as no one could have. Unless they were a mutant, which the unmoving girl was.

Alice had the power to shift her consciousness into inanimate items which was what she was doing now - trying to move her mind out of a big plush elephant standing on the table in the neighboring room. The toy belonged to Leshawna, Jasmine's roommate. She got it from her boyfriend for her last birthday three days ago, as if she was still a little girl.

That was the limitation of Alice's power. She couldn't always use it at her will. Getting into an item was as easy as a pie but getting out of it was a much more difficult task, taking her always about five minutes. Although she was making progress in recent weeks due to her exercises, observed by her school friends who accepted her fully. Maybe but for Brianna...she was even shorter than Sakura, had her short spiked hair painted pink and hated Alice. Just because she was a mutant. But she was the last person Alice was thinking about now. All she was thinking about now was coming back to her body.

"Hey, honey, are you here?" asked Sarah in her characteristic deep alto, touching Alice's naked blue arm, so unlike her own; brown, plump and completely human.

The aforementioned opened her all golden eyes and smiled. Her eyelids fluttered.

"Yes, I'm back".

"You are doing really well," said Jasmine, a mild mannered girl with a shock of curly blonde hair and big, innocent blue eyes. "This time it was just three minutes. Sakura was looking at her watch all the time".

The Japanese girl nodded. "Two minutes and fifty two seconds to be precise," she said. "I'm sure one day you'll be able to get out in less than a minute… ten seconds maybe. Or even instantly. You only need to practice".

"I will," said Alice. "What a pity I can't move objects I'm in. I'd scare Brianna. She would leave school instantly and go back home. She wouldn't ever tease me".

Liz, a tall and bony girl with a braid, who didn't speak until now, opened her mouth for the first time since Alice started her practice.

"It would be great," she agreed. "I hate her too. You could scare her every now and then. Imagine: she would be opening her handbag and her own purse would jump out of it and hit her on her face. Or, she could be sitting on her chair and it would jump out from under her. She would think it was ghosts!"

The five girls giggled at this rather pleasant image. None of them liked Brianna.

"I could do it," said Alice. "I could go to her room and get into some things she has in there. It would be great if I ever happened to learn to move them".

The girls nodded. The blue skinned teen closed her eyes and concentrated. She was out of her body now, observing the room of her enemy. She could see her lying on her bed with several of her things lying about. A small, pink pillow with two embroidered hearts and the "Love" logo in one corner. A copy of "Pandora" by Anne Rice with a hand made green bookmark stuck between its pages. A pink Nokia mobile phone. A blue pen with Tinkerbell on it. A black t-shirt with a scene from Starcraft and another one, with a big, smiling face of Minnie Mouse, pink, innocent and cute – not fitting their owner's personality at all. Amber beads. An MP3 player. Used tissues. Even a single hygienic pad in its navy blue wrapping. Not used this time, how nice.

"What a mess," Alice thought. "Is she always so untidy so as to keep all her stuff on her bed? Can't she clean it up?" She took a closer look at the things lying on the bed. Which one to choose? The Tinkerbell pen? No. The vampire novel? No. Well, life as seen from the perspective of a feminine hygiene product would be funny. Alice concentrated, looking at the pad. Her essence came into it. The world became all soft and white.

Alice's friends were wondering what Alice was doing for so long in Brianna's room. It was five minutes since she left them. The last time took her less time. Someone knocked on the door. The girls shivered, wondering what they should say to their guest about Alice's state she was in. But well, after all, everybody knew what powers she had.

Liz came to open the door. "Come in," she said, without seeing who was coming in since the door blocked her view of the person paying a visit to their room. But the others saw who it was.

"Hi, Brianna," said Sakura.

"Hi," said the guest. "I was wondering if any of you could loan me… you know, I just started my period and I'm out of pads. I just used the very last I had".


	13. There Can Be Only One.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One out four identical quadruplets is a mutant.

Beta: Moviemom44

Disclaimer: I don't own any rights to it for I have nothing to do with Marvel.

I'm fascinated with multiple births and unexplained stories (especially with mysterious disappearances) too.

THERE CAN BE ONLY ONE

So finally, this story can be told. Finally – I'm telling this with a sigh of relief. Or… I would if only I was capable of sighing or doing anything else for that matter. You know, I always truly hated unexplained stories. How the crew of the Mary Celeste ended up. What really happened to Dorothy Arnold and Judge Crater. And the Beaumont siblings. And who the famous Boy in the Box was. Since my earliest years I loved those stories but hated how they ended – with a mystery no one could explain and which would remain unexplained through generations. Yet, the story of my life is going to be like that – told but not heard. But let's not get ahead of ourselves.

It was my older brother who loved everything that was unexplained and over the years infected me with this love. My older brother Micah who is long dead now. The same as my other brother, Casey who was in turn younger than myself – by barely a couple of minutes. And Micah was just a couple of minutes older than me. There was also the fourth brother, Jared. He came just a few minutes after Casey.

Yes, you have heard well. We, the Smith brothers, were born as quadruplets. Identical ones, to boot. Another version of the Keys quadruplets born at the beginning of the 20th century. Except that we were an all-male set - and a mutant one, in addition. Well, really it was just one brother who had powers although the fact of him having them caused the rest of us get some sort of them too – on a smaller scale. But I'll tell you about that in a moment.

We looked identical but if you came to know us, you knew our personalities were different. Micah was the oldest and at the same time, the smartest and most mature among us. When we were in our early teens, some family's friend said that actually the only difference between the oldest Smith brother and an adult man was purely biological. I am inclined to fully agree with that. Casey was in turn the most athletic out of us – very strong and fit. I, Jayden, was an artistic type; the mildest and calmest one. As for Jared… well, he had this ability.

We led a normal life – as normal as the life of identical quadruplets to whom everybody pays attention can be – throughout our whole childhood and early teenage years. We played football, talked with friends and did everything that little and later teenage boys do. Back then, the only difference between us and other boys was that we were identical.

But later, the summer we turned 15, everything changed. Jared started to exhibit mental powers. We didn't expect it because how could we? At the beginning we thought we all had this power but later it turned out that it was only Jared, the youngest of us.

Actually, I think in some ways it was fair. That if any of us was to get powers, it should be him. Micah was some sort of family genius, I was a talented painter and writer, Casey was a star athlete and Jared… well, was normal. Ordinary. Just a boy and that's all. He was very controlling though and it was the most distinctive feature of his. That's really the nicest way I can put it. Our youngest brother was a boy who liked having everything under control. Really, really liked. And when he didn't, it always made him really angry. My brother could spend whole hours squatting on the floor, holding his head in his hands, with an angry face. I could only guess how much he must hate his hopelessness. And when his power activated, I could feel it on my own mind, getting direct access to his thoughts. This is how his powers worked. He could contact us whenever he wanted, letting us know his thoughts. We could contact him too but it wasn't about our being able to contact via thought – he just received our thoughts and answered them. He always could receive them. When he connected his mind with ours, we could communicate telepathically with each other – only when he let us do it. I said we got some sort of powers too. Otherwise it wouldn't be possible; we weren't mutants ourselves, none of us – neither Micah nor Casey nor me. It was Jared who was a mutant. Another aspect of his power developed then was the ability to control. I believe the mutant ability often has a catalyst which lets it get some particular shape and with Jared this was the case. An avid traveler becomes a teleporter, a shy person gains the ability to turn invisible, a person having three brothers with whom he shared one womb manifests the ability to communicate them. Communicate – and control. Yes, it was the most important thing about this. With the activation of this gift, the days of Jared's gloomy musing over how much he hated not being in the position of power, were over.

This particular telepathy worked just on us and no one else. Back then, at least. As hard as Jared tried, in those days he couldn't force anyone else from beyond our small circle to follow his will, nor could he contact them. His telepathic gift was limited just to us four. It must have been about our being quadruplets. We couldn't tell anyone even if we wanted. We knew what people thought about those like our brother.

But there was also one more aspect of this whole story – even if we had anyone to tell, we were too afraid to do it, that was the truth. When I say that my brother liked control, this is what I mean. In short, a control freak was the best term describing him. And he liked practicing his power on us. Take Micah, for example. One hot summer morning our oldest brother woke up near a hammock suspended between the trees in the garden belonging to our neighbor. With no clothes on. And the worst thing about this that was that in the hammock there was sleeping the neighbor's daughter. She had decided to spend that night in a hammock. You can imagine her screams when she woke up – it was the moment when Micah woke up as well. And her dad's anger. Poor Micah really got into trouble then. And later Casey. Jared forced him to insult his girlfriend. And our grandma who came to visit us. And later our teacher – only this time it was me who admitted to this. Jared forced me to admit it was me, that I was actually Casey and Casey was me – I don't need to add that Casey was also mentally controlled by Jared and as the result he said his name was Jayden.

Even if we weren't afraid of our youngest brother and what he could do to us, we wouldn't be able to tell anyone about who was really standing beyond all those misdeeds. Jared would soon read the thought about sharing our version of the truth with anyone and well… do something really unpleasant to the one who would take the risk to try. We even didn't dare to think what it could be. So the only thing we could do was hope that our brother would somehow grow out of this (though, realistically, this thought was just a defense mechanism on our part) or that in a couple of years we would leave home to go to college (we hoped in this way we would be out of his reach).

But the things just got worse and worse and neither our parents nor anyone else for that matter suspected a thing. They didn't suspect that when we broke things, insulted people, stole things in stores (so clumsily that the shop assistants instantly saw us and called the police), kicked our dog and did many other things no parent would ever be proud of their kids doing them, none of those were our choice. Not that we were doing them so often. It was really just once every couple of weeks - in case some of you thought that since Jared manifested powers, every single day of ours was a symphony of evil.

We thought that when we left home to study things would turn out to be better. Only they didn't. In fact, it was the beginning of the end. Not the end of Jared's evil tricks performed on us. The end of the life of Micah. One autumn day our brother just didn't go home from school. He was the only one who was in school that day; the rest of us were lying in bed with a cold. Or maybe he was the only one who was going to go to school for he never arrived there. His dead body was found in the river floating near our house the next day. The police said he must have slipped and fell in but we knew better. Jared told us it was he who did it. We were in shock. How could you ever suspect your brother, though manipulative and malicious could be a murderer to boot? But he was and the reason was very simple – his powers developed. Jared was now capable of contacting others in the same way he did to us – something none of us thought was possible. He couldn't read their minds as such but he was perfectly capable of sliding mentally into their bodies to control them. And he didn't need us anymore. Neither Micah, nor Casey nor me – he was going to be the only child of our parents. He felt fed up with his being referred to as just part of the team of quadruplets, one of four clones. He wanted individuality.

It was why he gave Micah the telepathic order to jump into the river. And why after several months he did the same to Casey, with one difference. This time he made him cut his veins. I was sure it wasn't going to happen, that Micah was his first but also last victim at the same time. Jared swore to us he wasn't going to hurt us, that Micah was going to tell our parents and he had to prevent this. But that was at the beginning. Later, Jared erased the memory of our talks with him on this. For half a year we forgot Jared had anything to do with Micah' death. But after mom found Casey's dead body in his bed one morning, Jared removed the mental blockades from my memory, behind which hid the memory of Jared telling me and my now deceased brother that he was responsible for our other sibling's death. Now this memory was in my mind again, fresh as if it was yesterday, which I realized with fear. And now Jared was telling me that he only joked telling us that Micah was his last victim because he wanted to kill all of us. And I was the only one left. He wanted once and for all to be the only child in the family, not just one of four, not just one in the army of four clones. And I knew he was one of those people who always achieve their aim.

But I forgot about this conversation too due to Jared's efforts. He was really good at erasing memories from people's minds, I must agree about this even now, being in my miserable condition. I remember all of this because he gave me my memories back last week. And he wouldn't have done that had it not been his final step on the path leading him to his Highlander–like aim – "There can be only one".

Last week I woke up and couldn't move. I couldn't scream, move my eyelids – nothing at all. I could only breathe and feel on my skin the cold and rotten scent of our cellar. I didn't know what was happening. In the evening I went to bed, enjoying the solitude we shared with Jared – our parents were out of town and were to come back in two weeks. They really needed vacation after the death of their two sons. Jared and me were to be alone. Yet now instead of laying in my comfortable, cozy bed between the quilt and linen of which I had slipped the day before, I was lying on the rough cement floor of our cellar. I knew it for sure – even if I didn't recognize the smell of our cellar, Jared would have told me about this. His voice resounded in my head. At this one moment, I recalled the circumstances of the deaths of my brothers and our talks about them Jared and I had afterwards. And I knew now what he was going to do to me. I knew even without the words of his which were seeping into my head, filling me with fear, the worse of which was my realization that I wasn't going to get out. That I could consider myself already dead even if I was still breathing and my heart, rapidly beating now, was still pumping blood. My brother wanted my death to be long and lasting many days, unlike it was with our other two siblings. He wished their deaths had been really long and painful – like mine was going to be. He said when I died of starvation and thirst, he would pour acid over my body and tell our parents I run away for I couldn't live with the awareness of having killed my brothers any longer, slowly being eaten by pricks of conscience. Yes, he wrote on the computer "my" acknowledgement of guilt and printed it, putting it under my pillow, eventually to be found by him when, disturbed by my disappearance, he was checking out all the crooks and nooks of the bedroom we shared. This is how the story of the quadruplets - one of whom was an evil mutant - is going to end.

If this story was one from a novel, I would be found by some mutant telepath who would help me get out and get rid of my brother but real life isn't that good. I will die soon – I'm giving myself one day at best. Thirst is the worst but now, five days later even the suffering of it is slowly starting to fade – paradoxically. I know I'm dying and that the dream of my mutant brother will come true. I think I have just a couple of hours left. I'm telling this story, sending it mentally to any mutant telepath who could pass by – but I know no one like this is going to come and save me. I'm even not a mutant like my brother – who now is listening to me, laughing at me in his malicious mental laughter. My parents aren't ever going to find out the truth. I'm glad that at least I managed to tell this story even if there is no one to listen to it – except for my brother. It's a pity no one will discover the truth. But at least I managed to tell it – even if voicelessly. It's my only consolation.


End file.
